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Degas looked his thanks at the innkeeper, wiping his bloody hands on his pant legs. He stumbled to a table, sitting hard.
"May I have some water?" he asked, just as a cup was passed to him. "If Saeryn is hurt, friends, I know not how or when. I saw her last a mile or less from the edge of the city. She had considered her decision to see our brother and rode back, wanting more to stay here than to risk being unable to return. I rode on to settle the business and personal ends of our sister's death." He sighed, eyes over-bright.
Bethberry prodded him gently, mentally marking every bruise. A long one covered his forehead, looking worse than it was. His hands she bound softly as she wiped a trickle of blood from his eyebrow. His nose looked slightly off kilter and proved to be broken, although not too badly. Deftly, she shifted the cartilage back where it should have been and handed him a glass of brandy to quench the pain.
Eodwine prodded for further telling. "So you've no idea what happened to Saeryn? If no, than what is the story of your own wounds?"
Degas made to spit at the floor in distaste, but stopped himself. "My wounds... Two fights." he said with disdain. "The first... a personal matter. There is no need for your fear in that category, but that is why my nose needed fixing, and that was where my knuckles split." With a laugh, he informed them that the other guy looked worse. Nobody laughed in return.
"You said two fights, sir," interrupted Saeryn. "What are the names of your opponents?"
Degas looked in wonder at his twin who did not know his face. "M'lady," he said softly, "I have Fenrir of the Folde to thank for my first encounter. If you remember, he bade me ne'er return. He was unhappy that I saw fit to do so, and unhappier yet that you did not ride with me. The name of my attacker alludes me. Time for formal introductions was brushed slightly aside when he struck me from behind. The lovely purple across my brow is thanks to the rock I hit with the" here he interjected a number of colorful words that the ladies gasped at, "on my back."
Bethberry, finished with her work, looked at Degas. He looked very colorful, but was not hurt too badly. His worst injury was his hands. He would be unable to wield a weapon for some time, with the gauze wrapped about them.
"M'lord, you must tell us what happened. We care not so much for the fight itself... that telling can be heard later, but where is the man with whom you fought? How were the guards unaware of this adventure?"
Degas looked at her and took a drink. "We fought outside the city walls. I was in a hurry... I wanted to find Saeryn. She mustn't stay here. Fenrir is... unhappy. He wants her home to take up her rightful place as a lady of the Folde. He is coming. With him unconcious... I left. I rode hard and fast to get here first. The dolt never did care for riding to the degree that Saeri and I did. He won't reach here until dawn at the soonest. But the second man... we were outside the city. No doubt that no man heard the scuffle. I do not know where he was. I presume he thought that I was trouble. I did not see his belongings in the dark. I tripped over them, and upon standing, he helped me fall a few more times. I lay in an falsely unconcious state. Pride... pride doesn't matter as long as the ladies are safe. He left, and I ran for the city. Nobody saw me enter. We must get the ladies to safety."
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